


And Rebuild All Your Ruins

by umakoo



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Reincarnation, Teen Loki, Temporary Amnesia, Thor is the biggest Loki Apologist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 07:44:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14689596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umakoo/pseuds/umakoo
Summary: The war against Thanos is over and Thor sets out to rebuild Asgard on the coast of Norway. He begins to dream of a strange dark-haired boy soon after.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thorvaenn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorvaenn/gifts), [thoresque](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoresque/gifts), [curds_and_wheyface](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curds_and_wheyface/gifts).



> I've wanted to write fic about Thor creating a new Asgard since Ragnarök came out, so here I am! I also love the idea of reincarnation and though the Loki in this fic isn't Kid Loki, he was definitely inspired by the Journey into Mystery arc. I don't mention Loki's age, but if you must put a number on him, he'd be around 16 or 17 in human years.
> 
> Lots of love to Selene and Bucky for the beta and to both Mona and Diana for the [pretty edits](http://pohjanneito.tumblr.com/post/174000402502/thorloki-and-rebuild-all-your-ruins-explicit) they made for me on Tumblr <3 The fic is completed and I'll be posting the second chapter this coming weekend. I hope you enjoy this! :)

The coast is enveloped in a storm when Thor steps through the portal sometime after nightfall. Not a single speck of starlight pierces the mass of clouds, dark like a fresh bruise, the roar of the sea almost deafening as it beats against the high cliffs.

 

Rain or shine, it makes their task no easier.

 

“It is done?” Sif asks, foregoing formal greetings as she walks up to the portal. “I was expecting you at sundown.”

 

“Aye, Stark and Potts were there to help finalize the deal. Well, mostly Potts. Turns out these mortals have a taste for bureaucracy, but this land belongs to Asgard now and we are free to use it as we see fit.”

 

“And you mean for us to begin tonight? In this weather?” Sif wipes a strand of wet hair from her cheek and cocks her brow at Thor, fat drops of rain chinking against her breastplate.

 

“Don’t give me that look,” Thor snorts. “This storm is not of my making.”

 

“Are you certain? The skies around you have been overcast more often than not these past few years…” She catches herself and falls quiet, her eyes apologetic. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean-”

 

Thor gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, but his smile is stained with familiar melancholy. “There is nothing to forgive. And you're right, the weather has often reflected my moods. It’s been that way since I was a boy.”

 

“Aye, I remember you once ruined my new training leathers with a sulky downpour when I bested you on Tyr’s obstacle course four times in a row.”

 

“First of all, it was two times,” Thor corrects, holding up two of his fingers, his expression a little sheepish. “And secondly, I apologize for the ruined leathers.”

 

Sif rolls her eyes at Thor, the familiar banter between them both a salve and a bittersweet reminder of a more carefree time neither of them can relive.

 

She glances over Thor’s shoulder and nods at the open portal and the empty conference room at the other end. “You should probably close that before the Norwegian government charges us for water damage.”

 

Thor snorts and tightens his grip around Stormbreaker’s sturdy shaft. He beats the axe against the ground to close the portal and gives Sif a wink as he points the uru head towards the sky. The winds around them relent at Thor’s command and the clouds part to reveal a dark canvas of stars, the bellow of the sea below them calming to a gentle murmur.

 

Thor tugs at the sleeve of his Midgardian coat and dabs the cloth against Sif’s cheek. “Better?”

 

“Better,” Sif nods. She is fair still, but her long travels across the realms have aged her, the bloom of youth gone too soon and replaced by the same loss and bone-deep weariness Thor knows well, for it sticks to them both like tar.

 

Thor looks up at the bright flash of light above their heads and his mouth curves into a broad smile when the sky tears open with another portal.

 

Brunnhilde rides through on her flying steed, the only one of its kind left in the universe. She lands on the clearing and hops off the saddle with graceful efficiency, her dark braids swinging over her chest plate as she greets them with a small bow. She gives her horse a treat from her belt before sending it away, and the beast’s large wings beat against the air as it takes off and disappears through the portal.

 

“How are our people?” Thor asks, eager for news. He hasn’t yet had a chance to be the leader he hopes to be, for the fight against Thanos was long and taxing, but his worry over the remaining Aesir has been a constant weight on his shoulders these past few years.

 

“They’re fine, Majesty. Some choose to remain on Vanaheim, at least for now, but I've managed to keep most of the families together. The local government here has provided them with suitable accommodations, but they’re eager to finally have a place to call home.”

 

Nothing can ever replace the celestial beauty of old Asgard, but they need a proper place to grow roots and start anew. 

 

“A home they shall have,” Thor nods, eyeing the empty landscape. “We begin tonight and I vow not to rest until every family has a roof over their heads.”

 

He walks around the rain-soaked field and Sif and Brunnhilde follow on his heels exchanging puzzled looks. Thor cannot blame them for their skepticism, for the view of the northern sea is quite pleasant, but everything else about the location is wholly unremarkable.

 

And still there is _something_ here. He can feel it pulse in the air, and his skin tingles like it used to whenever he watched his mother and Loki practice seiðr.

 

Whatever is hidden in this spot of land is more ancient than the earth beneath their boots or the rock formations that rise in the distance like jagged teeth. Thor looks down and smiles when his artificial eye catches the familiar sight of Bifröst runes, perhaps centuries old, illuminated by the faint glow of magic from his portal.

 

A good sign, he hopes.

 

Sif drops down to a crouch and yanks a clump of grass from the soggy ground, her brow furrowed as she lets the dirt crumble in her fingers. “The ground here seems fertile, but we’re on the outskirts of Midgard... Are you certain this is a suitable place to rebuild?”

 

Thor stares into the distance, a memory of a hasty farewell on the cliffside flashing before his eyes. The pain of it is more distant but no less intense than it was when he watched his father’s spirit depart for Valhalla.

 

He recalls nights aboard the _Statesman_ before all went to ruin, his brother’s solid weight pressed against his side as they lay in bed, voicing tentative plans for a new, better Asgard, one that wasn’t built on blood-stained valor.

 

_“You remember the place where we last saw our Father? That is where we’ll go, if we ever reach Midgard, and there we’ll dig deep and start anew.”_

 

Loki’s cryptic words and his choice of a building site are still a mystery to Thor, for he remembers the deep loathing his brother harbored for Midgard, but Odin, too, called this spot of land _home_.

 

“Majesty?”

 

Thor blinks at the light jostle Brunnhilde gives to his shoulder and forces his mind back into the present, for now is not the time to be distracted by ghosts of the past.

 

“Aye, this is the place. You said it yourself, Sif, the ground is fertile here and our people have a history in these lands,” he says, and points to the Bifröst runes.

 

He makes no mention of Loki’s part in the plan, but both Sif and Brunnhilde watch him with knowing eyes as he walks to the edge of the cliff and whispers a quiet prayer to his family in Valhalla.

 

“Mother, Father… _Loki_.” His voice breaks and he swallows the quiet sob that strains in his throat. “Lend me your strength and guide my hand, give me wisdom of both heart and mind, and help me make our people proud.” He fills his lungs with salty air and looks over his shoulder, beckoning his friends to join him. “Are you ready?”

 

“Ready, Majesty,” Brunnhilde nods. She pulls Dragonfang out of its sheath and holds her sword aloft.

 

“Always,” comes Sif’s solemn reply as she presses her double-bladed sword against Valkyrie steel.

 

Thor’s smile is grateful and soft around the edges even as his eyes begin to glow with the storm that stirs in his blood. “Thank you for doing this with me.”

 

He lifts Strombreaker and strikes the head against the two swords, the resulting sound so loud that the earth beneath their boots trembles.

 

“Now, we dig deep!”

 

The air crackles with electricity as Thor uses their combined weapons to conjure and harness a massive bolt of lightning from the cloudless sky.

 

Sif and Brunnhilde grit their teeth and dig their heels into the dirt, but their arms remain steady, their resolve as strong as Thor’s as they follow his lead and whip the electric bolt directly into the empty field of grass.

 

The ground splits open in a massive blast of dust and singed earth, and they all stare at the wisps of magic that begin to swirl in the air. The smell of ozone and electricity is thick enough to taste, and the rumble of thunder continues to roll down the open plains as the dust settles to reveal a small crater. In the bottom sits a pool of primordial void, unearthed by their joined efforts.

 

Sif lowers her sword and shakes her head in disbelief. “Is that…”

 

“A drop of Ginnungagap, aye,” Thor nods, the storm in his eyes dimming. He jumps down into the crater and approaches the small pool, hidden since the days of creation, the starlight above their heads reflected on the smooth, black surface.

 

“That’s more than a drop,” Brunnhilde notes as she slides down to join him, her face alight with excitement. “With this, we can build anything! An Asgard more glorious than even the gaudy, gilded, halls of the Allfather.” She cocks her brow and shoots Thor a sheepish smile. “I mean, no offense, but the giant statues and murals of bloody conquests weren’t really my style.”

 

“There will be no more bloody conquests in the name of Asgard,” Thor agrees.

 

He feels his blood thrum with pure, untapped potential, and Loki’s cryptic words finally make sense. He recalls the stories Heimdall used to tell him about creation and how the realms first came to be, but he had no idea that remnants of the yawning void still existed, and on Midgard of all places.

 

Sif kneels by Thor’s side and studies her reflection, the surface of the pool as still as glass. “Do you know how to harness its power?”

 

Thor gives his axe a playful spin. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

 

Sif frowns, her eyes lingering on the tendrils of magic that continue to rise from the pool. “Thor… This thing is ancient, even older than the oldest Celestial. There’s no knowing what you might conjure into existence if you fail to use it correctly.”

 

Thor nods, for he shares her apprehension, but he has to believe that Loki sent him here for a reason. He knows the whole thing would be easier if his brother were by his side, guiding him through whatever it is he’s about to do, but Loki is lost to him and all that remains are wistful dreams, whispered in the dark of night.

 

“I thank you for your counsel, but I don’t know what other choice we have. We can’t build brick by brick if we want our people to have a home in the next two centuries.”

 

“I agree,” Brunnhilde nods. “The people of this realm are kind and understanding of our plight, but we can’t leech on their generosity and good will forever.”

 

Sif heaves a deep sigh. “Very well.” She cups Thor’s cheek and runs the calloused fingers of her blade hand through his thick beard. “Brunnhilde and I will watch over you while you work, and if you need anything, you’ve only to ask.”

 

Thor clasps her neck and presses their brows together, the love and loyalty Sif has always shown him both humbling and empowering. “Thank you, Sif. I’m glad you’re still with me.”

 

“As am I, dear friend.”

 

Thor does what feels right, and he undresses and wades into the dark pool with his axe in hand. He has a brief, blood-chilling thought that he might fall through, for it is an essence of nothingness, but the void is not deep, reaching no higher than his chest. It is hotter than he expected, though, and thick like honey when it comes into contact with his limbs.

 

He has no spell or word of power in mind, but it appears he doesn’t need one, for the process of creation simply begins because he wills it so.

 

Stormbreaker works as a conduit for the energy Thor draws from the elements around him: earth, water, air, the fire he conjures from the sky, they all contribute to his undertaking.

 

He remembers his home well, but the Asgard of his creation is no imitation of what came before, and there are no gilded statues of his forefathers, no lofty spires or vast halls bursting with empty grandeur.

 

The first thing he creates is a quiet garden that he fills with rippling streams and little white flowers his mother used to weave into her hair. He cannot recall their name, but he remembers their scent well, and perhaps a stroll through the garden every once in a while will ease the longing in his heart.

 

The buildings he creates start out a little rough around the edges, but they grow more stable as he works and he likes their look. He builds with a mixture of wood, stone and sturdy metal, keeping his designs simple but not so much that things become austere. Rustic, his brother might have called it, for Loki’s tastes were always more lavish.

 

He cannot replace what was lost in the fires of Surtur's mighty sword, but Thor gives their healers and astronomers and scholars proper places to practice their crafts, their technology still miles ahead of anything made on Midgard, save perhaps for Wakanda.

 

Time passes as he works, and Sif and Brunnhilde bring him sustenance every three days, but the longer he creates, the wearier he begins to feel. He fills empty spaces with evergreen trees, lush fields with bountiful harvests and small lakes full of fish. A month into his task, Thor creates a mead hall in his father’s honor, and he thinks of his fallen friends as he conjures a small wood on the southern edge of the land in memory of all the happy hunting trips of their youth.

 

The pool is nearly empty as he considers the city that now rises on a separate plane above them, smaller than the Asgard that came before, but with plenty of room for their people to grow and thrive.

 

His strength has waned considerably in the past few days, but Thor still has not created a single thing in Loki’s honor.

 

His thoughts linger on his brother almost day and night, the loss of him so heavy in his heart that Thor can barely draw breath as he slumps down on his hands and knees, what little strength remained in him dwindling.

 

Nothing he can create will ease the anguish rooted in his soul and would only serve to remind him of his bitter loss, for there is nothing he wants more than his brother by his side, whole and hale. His brother, who for so many centuries was much more than that, who shared all his pleasures in life and who made him laugh with his clever tongue and sharp wit. They fought, aye, especially towards the end, but there was never true hatred in Thor’s heart.

 

“Loki…” Thor sobs, the word barely leaving his lips as the pool drains him of his remaining power, the last of the black void evaporating in a wisp of smoky seiðr.

 

Stormbreaker falls from his hand with a heavy thud and Thor collapses on the bottom of the now empty pool, roots and small rocks digging into his back as his consciousness begins to waver.

 

There’s a voice in his head, faint, like it’s coming from another plane.

 

_“Find me.”_

 

Thor blinks, but his vision swims and his lids feel like steel.

 

_“Find me, brother!”_

 

“Loki?”

 

“Thor! Are you alright?”

 

Someone is shaking him, dragging him to the edge of the empty pool. There’s a blurry figure above him and he reaches up to touch the dark hair that hangs loose over two narrow shoulders.

 

“Loki?”

 

“What? No, Thor, it’s Sif.”

 

“Are you alright, Majesty?” Brunnhilde asks, squeezing Thor’s shoulders as their faces finally come into focus.

 

“Come, we must get you out of this damned hole and into bed. You require rest,” Sif says, her voice and face grim with worry. “Can you walk?”

 

Thor shakes his head. His spirit is weak and his legs feel like they’re made of wet clay. “Is it done?” he asks as Brunnhilde and Sif each throw a muscled arm over their shoulders and drag him to his feet.

 

“Aye, it’s done, Majesty, and it’s bloody wonderful,” Brunnhilde laughs, her ecstatic face the last thing Thor sees before he sinks into a deep state of unconsciousness.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He sleeps through most of the summer while Sif and Brunnhilde watch over their people in his stead. They settle into their new home and Sif fills him in on the news whenever she visits his bedside in the rooms Thor has built for himself.

 

He can’t answer her in his Thorsleep, but she knows he can hear her and she reassures him that all is well with the families that remain, even if many of them were broken when Thanos and his Order attacked their vessel.

 

“The streets still feel a bit empty and the taverns are only half-full on most nights, but the tanner’s wife is already expecting, and Fulla says it’ll be twins.” Thor sees and hears his friend sharpen her sword in his dream, sitting next to the shimmering forcefield that spread across his bed. “Brunnhilde has begun to train a small group of girls who aspire to join the ranks of the new Valkyries, but I’m sure you already keep an eye on the training grounds,” Sif smirks.

 

And she is not wrong, for Thor’s mind wanders in his sleep. He watches as his people slowly begin to rebuild what was lost, holding onto old traditions even as they take care not to repeat past mistakes.

 

The coast is quiet and secluded, the nearest town miles away, and their relations with Midgard remain amiable, Thor’s part in the Infinity War and everything that led up to it well-known. Most of his focus remains on Asgard, but he watches the new Avengers and those few who remain of his old comrades from time to time. There will always be unrest in the realms and the vast star systems between them, but things have remained in relative balance after Thanos’ defeat, and it appears Earth’s heroes aim to keep it that way even without Thor and his axe in their ranks.

 

The summer is nearing its end when Thor’s dreams begin to grow strange.

 

One night, there’s a dark-haired boy in his dream, walking down a narrow street, the walls of the surrounding buildings painting him in long shadows. Thor feels a new urgency in his subconscious, as if something is compelling him to act, though he’s not sure what he’s meant to do.

 

_“Find me!”_

 

It’s a few nights before the boy returns and this time Thor can make out half of his profile as he sits huddled inside an empty train car somewhere on Midgard. There’s something familiar about the way he holds himself, narrow shoulders hunched, face framed by dark curls.

 

He looks young.

 

The boy startles when someone approaches, and the dream fades just as Thor sees him rush out of the train car and run away from a bright beam of lamplight.

 

Thor feels uneasy in his sleep, but he continues to slumber, his body not yet recovered.

 

_“Find me!”_

 

The boy keeps drifting in and out of his dreams, sometimes nothing more than an elusive figure at the edge of his mind. He wears baggy shirts and ripped jeans as he stalks from street corner to street corner, skittish like a doe in the wild, ready to flee from unseen foes. Thor catches him in strange company from time to time, in empty car parks and quiet alleyways where quick hands exchange something before the boy darts off, disappearing into the night.

 

Thor only ever sees him from a distance, but he knows there’s something familiar about him, recognition just beyond his grasp.

 

The dream he has tonight feels different from the moment it begins, more tangible. Thor can almost smell the food from the small tavern in the street corner, and the sounds of the passing cars are loud in his ears. The boy tucks his unkempt hair behind one ear and stares down at the Stark Phone in his hand, spindly fingers tapping furiously.

 

He wrinkles his nose at something and glances up at a group of girls who approach him, and the bright green of his eyes steals Thor’s breath away. The shape of his mouth and the slope of his dark brows, they’re not quite the same as before, but Thor knows them, knows _him_.

 

“Loki!”

 

He blinks at his surroundings and his legs fidget under the thick blankets. The forcefield around his bed vanishes with his movement and Thor is hit with a momentary bout of stiffness as his muscles struggle to shake off the long months of disuse.

 

His heart beats like a stampeding bilgesnipe against his ribs and his tongue feels thick in his mouth, but he is out of bed by the time Sif and Brunnhilde rush into his chambers.

 

“Thor! You’re awake!” Sif exclaims, her face the picture of joy as she reaches out to embrace him.

 

“Your presence has been sorely missed, Majesty,” Brunnhilde grins, more reserved in her greeting.

 

Thor’s heart rejoices at the reunion, but his mind is elsewhere and he pulls away from the embrace to hasten to his study. He opens the newly-installed holonet and pulls up a map of Midgard. The space above his desk fills with a large holographic image of the realm.

 

“Thor, what are you doing?” Sif asks, rushing into the room after him, visibly puzzled. “You’re barely out of your first Thorsleep, you should take it easy. Bathe and fill your belly with food at least.”

 

Brunnhilde walks into the room in Sif’s tow, her eyes narrowing as she turns them on the map. “Are you searching for something?”

 

Sif’s face grows alarmed at the question. “Is something wrong? Is there some new threat?”

 

“No, no, everything is alright,” Thor assures, narrowing down his search as he recalls specific details from his dreams. Street signs, accents, names of establishments. “It’s just that I…” He turns to look at Sif, unable to hide his excitement. “I think Loki might be alive.”

 

Sif blinks at him and her face twists to bewildered alarm. Even Brunnhilde looks at him with barely concealed worry.

 

“Thor… Your brother’s been gone for years. You know as well as I do that he isn’t coming back, not this time.”

 

Thor nods and swipes through the map, jumping from city to city. “I know, and I wouldn’t believe it either, not if I hadn’t seen him with my own eyes as my mind wandered in my dreams.”

 

Brunnhilde seats herself on the edge of the table and eyes the map as Thor expands it to a more detailed view of the city of London. “Alright, let’s say he’s back. How do you suppose he managed it? Even Loki cannot lie his way out of the afterlife, not without outside aid.”

 

Thor scratches at his ungroomed beard and considers the possibilities. It wouldn’t be the first time his brother has managed to cheat death, but his last passing did feel different. And the Loki he saw in his dreams was not the Loki who perished with half of their people.

 

“The void of creation…” Thor murmurs as he thinks back to his final moments in the whirlpool. “I must have brought him back,” he gasps, his mind reeling at the notion.

 

“Stranger things have happened and I’ve lived long enough to see a great number of them with my own eyes,” Brunnhilde snorts, cocking her brow at Thor. “So you think your brother is back in a new body?”

 

Thor nods, his gaze darting between his own hands and the axe that rests on a pedestal across the room. “I think he’s been reborn.”

 

The mere thought of having Loki back makes his remaining eye well with tears and he allows their salty trails to stain his cheek even as his mouth spreads into a smile, the ache in his muscles lifting with relief.

 

Sif points at the map above their heads, her face illuminated by bright holographic lights. “And you’re saying he’s there? In London? What is he doing there?”

 

Thor thinks of the boy in his dreams, dressed in rags and sleeping in empty train cars. “I do not know, but I aim to find him and bring him home.”

 

“Home? You mean here, in Asgard? Thor… Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

 

Thor takes no offense at Sif’s doubting words, well-aware of the troubled past she shares with Loki. “I know you and Loki have rarely seen eye to eye, but you weren’t there to see the change in his heart in those final few months we spent together after our home was destroyed.” He closes the map and crosses his arms over his chest, his mind set. “I love my brother and I miss him beyond compare. I must have him by my side.”

 

Brunnhilde exits the conversation and leaves the room without another word, but Sif continues to stare at Thor, her face shifting through a myriad of expressions. Thor knows she worries for him and he’s grateful for it, but this is something he must do, with or without his friend’s support.

 

Sif blows out a quiet breath, the look on her face finally settling on resigned but understanding. “Very well. No one ever could change your mind about Loki and I suppose no one ever will.” She takes his hands in her own and gives it a light tug. “But you must break fast with me before you leave. You’ve no idea how scrawny you’ve become in your sleep.”

 

“Scrawny?” Thor echoes, and pretends to look insulted as he flexes one of his biceps.

 

“Aye, you’re lucky Tyr’s obstacle course was not among the things you conjured from that pool of ooze.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The memories Thor has of his dreams are vague, all except the last one, and he’s able to locate the tavern with the spicy-smelling food fairly quickly.

 

He conceals his axe as an umbrella, for the trick worked once before, and dons a simple Midgardian outfit to blend in. He’ll always stand out with his height and bulk, but at least people don’t swarm him to request he pose in their portraits or sign his name on random objects.

 

He enters the diner just before rush hour and watches the street until closing time, but there’s no sign of his brother. He tries again the next night and the night after that, but still his brother makes no appearance.

 

Thor ends up playing the waiting game for three whole weeks and the staff at the tavern have begun to think he’s a new regular, greeting him with friendly smiles and free refills. The food is excellent and properly greasy, and he already regrets knowing that he most likely won’t return after he manages to collect his brother.

 

He’s on his second serving of bangers and mash when his gaze finally lands on a familiar figure just outside the neon-lit window and he drops his fork on his plate with a clatter, too busy gaping at his brother to even notice the alarmed looks around him.

 

Loki hops on a dumpster, knees exposed through the ripped holes in his jeans, lean legs swinging back and forth as he pulls out his phone and begins to tap.

 

Thor is up on his feet so fast that his chair threatens to topple and he drops a wad of Midgardian currency on the counter, the owner’s shocked cries of gratitude following him out the door. It’s not until he’s standing in the middle of the busy street that he realizes he has no real plan. He’s been so focused on the thought of bringing Loki home that he has no idea what to actually say to him or if his brother will even recognize him. And what if Loki doesn’t want to come home? What if he puts up a struggle and runs off?

 

Thor shakes the thoughts from his head and squares his shoulders as he begins his approach, aware that he'll likely only have this one chance to bring his brother home.

 

Loki doesn’t notice him at first, too busy staring at his Stark Phone, half of his face hidden behind his hair. There's a knit cap on his head, but he shivers in the cool September night, the outfit he wears much too light for the season.

 

Thor has never been good at determining how mortals age, for time is a wholly different concept for Midgardians, but he can tell his brother is considerably younger than he was when Thor last saw him, and it is a strange sight, for Thor was only ever a few centuries older. And now, by some strange twist of fate, he’s a grown man while his brother has yet to reach the peak of youth.

 

Loki finally looks up from his phone. He arches a dark brow at Thor, the expression familiar even on his unfamiliar face. “Whatcha looking at?” He hops off the trash can and shoots Thor an appraising look. “You’re not my contact… Or maybe you are, but you don’t really look like the type who’s here for a Gucci handbag.”

 

“ _What?_ ” Thor sputters, for he has no idea what Loki is talking about. His stomach feels like it’s full of lead as he realizes that his brother doesn’t appear to recognize him.

 

“Well? Are you here for the bag or not?” Loki snaps. His eyes dart left and right, the gaze in them alert, and his whole posture turns guarded. “You’re not a copper, are you?”

 

“No I’m not a copper. I just, I just wish to speak with you.” Thor steps closer and Loki recoils, the trash can behind him falling with a clatter. Worried that his brother might flee, Thor uses the moment of distraction to close the distance between them and takes a hold of Loki’s wrist, mindful of his strength.

 

“Hey, hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

 

“I don’t have time to explain, not here. You must come with me,” Thor says, his chest tight with mounting urgency as he glances around and sees the curious stares they’re attracting.

 

“Come with you?! Are you crazy?” Loki’s eyes are wide with alarm and his shoes scrape against the cracked asphalt as he struggles to free himself from Thor’s grip. “Let me go! I’ll scream if you don’t!”

 

Thor knows he has to act fast. He tightens his hold on Stormbreaker’s concealed hilt and strikes the axe against the pavement to open a portal further down in the alley. The air crackles as the power of the Bifröst creates a window between the brick wall and the backdoor of the tavern, and Loki does finally scream when Thor grabs him by his narrow waist and flings him over his shoulder, rushing them into the portal.

 

They land in Thor’s chambers and Thor hurries to tap Stormbreaker against the floor, ignoring the way Loki pummels his back with his fists as he squirms in his hold, his skinny feet kicking the air.

 

Once the way back to London is sealed, Thor puts his brother down on the bed and holds up his hands. He knows he must look imposing, but he attempts to sound as unthreatening as possible as he seats himself on the edge of the bed.

 

“Calm yourself, everything is alright, I mean you no harm.”

 

“Calm myself?! You’ve just kidnapped me!” Loki shrieks. He crawls away from Thor, his eyes almost bulging out of his head as he stares at him in an utter state of shock. “Who the hell are you?”

 

Thor frowns at the complete lack of recognition on his brother’s face. He really could have handled this better, but there isn’t much he can do to make things worse now, and he holds out his hand to summon his armor.

 

Loki draws in a sharp breath as Thor’s battle gear knits together piece by piece. He whips his head left and right and stares at his surroundings. “You’re- you’re one of those aliens! I’ve seen you in my dreams.” Loki shakes his head as he catches his words and he hurries to correct himself “No, on the news! It must have been on the news,” he insists, visibly shaken. "Seriously, what the hell do you want from me?"

 

Thor decides that the best course of action now is to simply tell the truth.

 

“I am Thor, son of Odin, King of New Asgard. And you...” He steps forward and reaches out to clasp Loki's shoulder. “You are Loki, child of Laufey and adopted son of Odin and Frigga.” He cups Loki’s cheek and Loki allows it, too shocked to struggle. “You are my brother, born anew, and I have brought you home.”

 

Loki shakes his head. His cheeks are wet with tears and more continue to fall as he lets out a stunned laugh. “You’re crazy.” He finally smacks Thor’s hand away and his brows pull together in anger. “You’re lying! My name isn’t Loki! My name is-” He blinks and his mouth hangs open as he strains to remember. “My name is…”

 

Thor’s heart aches to see his brother struggle with realization, his brief life among the mortals already colliding with his true self. “I fear you’ve lost your memories, brother, but I can bring them back."

 

Thor removes the illusion on Stormbreaker and Loki snarls at him when he climbs onto the bed, backing away until he’s pressed against the massive headboard. He stares at Thor like a cornered animal, his chest rising and falling so fast that Thor fears he might pass out. He knows he has no other choice but to force the lost memories back to the surface and he pulls Loki into his arms, careful not to hurt him as he sets his axe between them and wraps Loki’s hand around the hilt.

 

Loki continues to struggle and he's about to bite Thor's wrist, but the seiðr that flows through the axe makes him jolt and freeze. It taps into Thor’s memories and he feels raw and exposed as they begin to travel to Loki’s consciousness, for within every memory is also a myriad of emotions and his cheeks grow wet with tears as centuries of shared moments flash before their eyes. Loki is limp in his arms and Thor cradles him against his chest as his brother, too, begins to sob.

 

He had Loki by his side for over a thousand years, and all the joy and pain of their shared centuries flows between them as the axe pulses with seiðr. All the love, brotherly and forbidden, all the tragedy and loss that met them in the last few years of Loki’s life is now shared with his newborn form.

 

His brother trembles like a leaf, overwhelmed by the flood of knowledge and emotions, and when it’s all over, when the glow of seiðr around them begins to fade, Loki looks up at Thor and there’s finally recognition in his eyes.

 

He blinks slowly, his expression stunned. “Thor?”

 

“Aye, it’s me.” Thor strokes his fingers over Loki’s tear-stained cheek, his chest swelling with gentle affection. “I’ve brought you home.”

 

Loki continues to stare at him, the corner of his mouth curling up just as his eyes flutter closed and he falls unconscious in Thor’s arms.

 

“Rest now, brother,” Thor murmurs. He tucks Loki under soft blankets and removes the hat on his head to run his fingers through his tangled hair. He’s bird-boned and beautiful as ever, his lashes dark against the pale complexion of his cheeks, and Thor wonders if the visage on this new vessel hides cobalt blue like the one that came before it.

 

He can’t even begin to fathom how his brother came into existence, if it was Thor’s own selfish desire to have him back, or if it is simply in Loki’s nature to be reborn time and time again.

 

Three times Thor mourned him, and he nearly lost his own will to live in the years that followed, consumed by nothing but thoughts of revenge and destruction. He leans over to press his lips to Loki’s brow and the storm in his heart finally relents, for his brother is back where he belongs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Thor is barely through his first official task the following morning when Sif comes marching into his study, the cadence of her steps telling Thor he might be in some manner of trouble.

 

“I see you’ve returned,” Sif notes sharply, and yes, Thor is definitely in trouble.

 

“Yes, I returned last night.” Thor closes the open holonet tabs above his desk and gives Sif his full attention. “Is something the matter?”

 

Sif arches her brows at him and Thor recognizes the familiar twitch in her eye, which means she’d probably box his ears if he wasn’t king, and it wouldn’t be the first time either.

 

“Not anymore, for I’ve been in contact with Potts and Hill. The three of us managed to clean up your mess, though it wasn’t easy when news outlets all over Midgard were bursting with unflattering headlines about Asgardians kidnapping people in plain sight.”

 

“ _What_?”

 

Sif holds up the Stark Pad in her hand and pulls up a video file. It’s shaky, likely shot with a phone from inside the tavern or across the street, but everyone can see Thor carry a seemingly innocent teenager through an interdimensional portal like a stolen wench.

 

“Uh…” Thor scratches at his cheek, feeling like a scolded child under Sif’s stern gaze.

 

“The mortals are grateful for all you’ve done for them over the years, but we cannot afford such bad publicity if we aim to coexist with them.”

 

“Sif, I had no choice,” Thor says, a little defensive. “He was going to flee, I had to act fast or I would have lost him.”

 

Sif closes the pad and crosses her arms over her chest plate. Her gaze wanders around the room and lands on the closed door of Thor’s bedchamber. “Is he in there?”

 

 

“Yes, he is, but he’s been asleep since last night. All of his memories were gone and the process of recovering them was taxing on him.”

 

“Can I see him?”

 

Thor nods and leads Sif into his bedroom. The windows are covered with thick velvet drapes and he lights one of the amber lamps at his bedside.

 

Sif lets out an audible gasp and her hand flies up to her mouth as she stares at Loki’s reincarnated form. “Norns… He’s so _young_.” She reaches out to brush her knuckles against Loki’s cheek, her touch gentle. “I-I cannot believe it. You really did bring him back.” She pulls her hand back when Loki threatens to stir, his nose wrinkling as he shifts under the sheets. “He must have been on Midgard since spring. What was he doing all this time?”

 

Thor’s face darkens as he wonders about Loki’s mortal existence. “I believe he was living on the streets. He did have a Stark Phone, but I suspect it was stolen, for they cost a hefty sum.”

 

“Well, I’m not surprised, if he simply popped into existence one day. And swindling always was in his nature,” Sif says, arching her brow at Thor.

 

“Sif…”

 

“You know it to be true, Thor, for who was most often the unfortunate target of your brother’s wily tricks? You and I and our dear departed friends, that’s who, may their souls find rest in Valhalla.”

 

Thor shakes his head, though he knows that Sif speaks the truth. “This Loki is innocent of all the ill deeds in the past. We can’t hold him accountable for crimes he did not commit.”

 

Sif purses her mouth and it’s obvious she doesn’t share Thor’s lenient views. “You’re too soft-hearted when it comes to your brother. You always were.” She glances down at Loki’s sleeping form and squeezes Thor’s arm as she departs. “I truly hope he doesn’t disappoint you. Again.”

 

Thor’s mouth pulls into a stubborn line as he watches her go. It’s true that his past with Loki is full of barely-healed pains, but that does not mean the same has to be true for their future. He turns his gaze back on his brother and the strain on his face disappears as he watches the gentle rise and fall of Loki’s chest.

 

“We won’t make the same mistakes, Loki. That I promise.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely feedback! This second half of the story is a lot longer and I hope everyone enjoys it! Big hugs once again to Bucky and Selene for the beta and to thorduna and sexualthorientation for the pretty edits they made for me :)

Thor awakes to the sound of tapping and strange, electronic bleeps, and he opens his eyes to the sight of Loki, sitting in the middle of Thor’s large bed, staring at his Stark Phone.

 

“Aww you’re almost out of battery,” Loki mutters, swiping his thumb across the screen, his brow creased in intense concentration. “Come on, one more wave to a new high score.”

 

Thor blinks, the scene before him a little surreal. He shifts in the armchair he’s been sleeping in for the past few nights and his brother finally looks up from his phone.

 

“Oh. Hi.” Loki’s cheeks dimple, and Thor feels something in his chest knock loose, for it’s been a long time since he last saw such a genuine, sincere smile on his brother’s lips. “Sorry if I woke you, I was just playing some Galaga to kill time.”

 

“Uh, good morning,” Thor nods. “How long have you been awake?”

 

Loki shrugs and rolls the blankets aside. “I dunno, long enough to listen to you snore like a bilgesnipe,” he smirks, hands behind his back as he begins to wander around the room, taking in his surroundings. “So I’m guessing we’re in Asgard?” He pauses in front of the windows and pulls one of the heavy drapes aside, blinking at the bright sunlight that floods into the room.

 

“Yes, the New Asgard I created on the coast of Norway.”

 

Loki presses his palms against the glass, visibly stunned by the view that greets him. “Whoa.”

 

Thor’s new hall pales next to the colossal grandeur of Gladsheim, but it, too, lies in the heart of the city. His bedroom windows open to the east and every sloping rooftop around Bilskirnir shines golden in the early morning sun. Beyond the city lie fields and rolling hills, and below them is the sea, calm but evermoving.

 

“ _You_ created this?” Loki lets out a whistle as he admires the fruit of Thor’s labor. “Impressive.” He throws Thor a playful grin over his shoulder. “I mean, it is kinda rustic, but at least you have wifi.”

 

Thor shakes his head, a little overwhelmed, for this is not how he pictured their reunion in his head. He walks up to his brother and spins him around by his shoulders until they’re eye to eye, and there are so many things he wants to do and say, so many questions and things to explain, but all he can do is stare.

 

Loki arches his brow and shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Um, it’s rude to stare.”

 

Thor lets out a breathless laugh, still unable to look away. “Forgive me, but I struggle to believe you’re truly here.”

 

“Well, that makes two of us- Hey!" Loki lets out a surprised yelp when Thor wraps his arms around him and pulls him into a tight embrace. His brother goes a little stiff, but it's only a moment until Thor feels the tentative touch of Loki's own hands at his shoulders. He hugs Loki against his chest and cups the nape of his slender neck, gives it a gentle rub, and his throat feels suddenly so tight that his breath escapes his lips in a stuttering exhale.

 

"Thor?"

 

"Sorry..." Thor chuckles and sets his brother down. "But I believe I may have owed you one."

 

"What, a hug?" Loki laughs, a little overwhelmed. "Well, I'm glad we're even. Also, what’s with your eye?” he asks, standing up on his toes to get a closer look at Thor’s mechanical eye.

 

“My eye?” Thor presses his fingers against the faintly scarred flesh that mars the skin around his right eye. “Oh, it was a gift from the Rabbit after I lost my real eye to- Wait,” He stops his rambling and attempts to focus on what truly matters. “How are you feeling? You’ve slept for three whole days and I wasn’t sure if it was the powerful spell or restoration or something else that drained you.”

 

“I’m ok, I guess.” Loki purses his lips and scrunches his nose as he considers his current state. “Kinda hungry, maybe?”

 

“Well, that we can fix,” Thor chuckles, relieved to see his brother appears unharmed. “Come, I’ll order us a big breakfast.”

 

Loki runs his fingers through his ungroomed hair and tugs at the collar of his hoodie, giving himself a sniff. “Um, yeah, maybe I should take a bath first? I’m kinda rank.”

 

“I do think it wise,” Thor agrees, only half in jest, for it’s clear that his brother hasn’t had a proper wash in a good while.

 

He uses the time Loki spends in the bath to call in one of the Midgardian girls he’s invited to Asgard to assist him around the house, and Röskva’s eyes grow wide at the amount of food Thor orders her to fetch from the kitchen. “Perhaps some extra tarts and sweet rolls, too?” Thor calls after her, for his brother was always more slender in build, but the months on the streets have left him looking more scrawny than lean.

 

Clean clothes provide a small problem, for none of Loki’s old outfits from his youth survived the destruction of Asgard, and Thor supposes he’ll have to take his brother to a tailor, but for now, his own tunic and a pair of light breeches will have to do. He leaves them on the bed and eyes the closed bathroom door. Loki is no child, but he is much younger in his new form, and Thor makes a mental note to prepare one of the adjoining rooms for his brother’s living space, for their past is complex and the present is still uncharted.

 

He’s buttering a scone in the sitting-room when Loki finally emerges from his bedchamber, cheeks pink and hair glossy from fine oils and soaps. It curls around his heart-shaped face in wild coils and Thor can’t recall seeing it so untamed beyond their boyhood years. His tunic is much too large on Loki’s frame, tied in the middle with a small golden belt, but Thor enjoys the way the royal red contrasts with his brother’s pale complexion.

 

Loki makes his way to the table, his feet still bare, and takes a seat across from Thor. “I see you weren’t kidding about that big breakfast, because that is _a lot_ of food…” Loki snorts, but Thor doesn’t miss the greedy, almost desperate glint in his eyes as his gaze wanders over the offerings on the table.

 

“Eat as much as you like.”

 

Loki doesn’t need to be told twice and he begins to fill his plate with everything his hands can reach until there’s a small mountain of food before him. He spears his fork through a scrambled mix of quail eggs and some local mushrooms and lets out a pleased hum the moment it reaches his mouth. “I have a feeling this might be the first proper meal I’ve had in a while.” He sinks his teeth into a steaming bread roll, his cheek bulging and voice muffled. “I don’t think I got to eat very often when I was in London.”

 

Thor arches his brows at Loki’s observation. “Do you remember anything about your time among the mortals?”

 

Loki pauses his chewing and takes a moment to think. “Not really... Just the portal and the seiðr you used to share your memories with me. Other than that, it’s just bad dreams about being hungry and kinda miserable. I guess I was homeless or something.”

 

“And what of the memories we shared?” Thor asks, unable to hide the hint of anxiety that creeps into his voice. “Do you remember your past life?”

 

Loki’s gaze turns glazed as he gets lost in thought. “I remember… I remember Asgard.” He blinks and brushes his fingers against his eyes. “It was so bright that I feel like I’ll go blind if I linger in my memories for too long.”

 

Thor nods and his smile grows a little amused. “Aye, it was a shiny city.”

 

“I remember my favorite spot in the whole place was the old astronomy tower on Sigrunn’s hill. You could see every corner of the realm from its high windows and the only company I had to tolerate was a family of pigeons. And on occasion, one annoying big brother,” he adds, his smile teasing.

 

Thor remembers the tower Loki speaks of, though he only made the long climb up if he _really_ missed his brother’s company. “You were quite the solitary creature even in our youth and you often preferred the company of your books while the rest of us spent our hours of leisure on the training grounds.”

 

Loki wrinkles his nose at Thor. “Ugh, yeah, I’m still not into sweating so don’t even think about dragging me to some musty arena.”

 

“Aye, I suppose mischief was always more of your thing.”

 

Loki cocks his brow at Thor and flashes him a toothy grin. “Well, can you blame me? No one fell for my tricks as often as you! And then you’d get so mad at me and run off to Father and I’d get punished...” Loki’s expression turns a little sour and he drops his gaze to his lap. “I guess I deserved it. Sometimes.” He pokes at his eggs and the mood shifts so suddenly that Thor barely has time to react when Loki's shoulders sag with a sudden onslaught of grief, his voice tight. “I know Mother and Father are gone.”

 

Loki’s lip begins to quiver and Thor hurries to his feet and circles the table to pull his brother into his arms. Loki comes freely and buries his face into Thor’s tunic as he begins to weep, forced to mourn old sorrows as the wounds in his heart tear open.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Thor takes some time off his kingly duties and spends the next few days exploring New Asgard with Loki. It appears his brother remembers most of their childhood, but many of the memories Thor shared with him are clouded over or fragmented like a half-remembered dream, but Thor suspects the memories will return in time as Loki’s new body adjusts to its godhood.

 

He often struggles to find a balance between truth and omission, aware that Loki is young in his reborn form, but so much of the pain in his past sprung from lies, and Thor tells the truth when he can, answering Loki’s questions about old friends and familiar faces who are no longer with them. His brother seems genuinely saddened to hear of the loss of their faithful gatekeeper and the Warriors Three, even if his history with all four of them was troubled at best.

 

They speak the same language, but Thor observes that there’s a peculiar Midgardian pattern in Loki’s speech that sets him apart from the people around him, and sometimes he seems more alike with Röskva than his own people. Thor often catches them laughing and showing each other something on their Stark Phones when the girl brings them their dinner, and he’s glad to see his brother make friends, even if young Röskva’s presence in their lives will be fleeting.

 

“This is so cool!” Loki yells over the wind as they soar above the city in a flying skiff.

 

Thor smiles at him from his seat by the rudder, Loki’s enthusiasm for everything around him endearing, and he cannot recall the last time he saw this side of his brother. Perhaps he never did, for the Loki that came before was much more reserved and guarded his feelings so well that Thor often struggled to guess what was in his brother’s heart until it was too late.

 

The Asgard of Thor’s creation is nothing like the city his father and sister built through centuries of subjugation and bloodshed. It lacks certain comforts and advantages of the old city, but Thor has done his best to provide their people with the tools they need to thrive.

 

It’ll be at least a century before they’ll have another working bifröst, but there’s a small harbor for regular intergalactic travel to make sure they don’t grow isolated from the rest of the realms. It hasn’t seen much traffic yet, but Thor has opened the doors of their city to all who are in need of aid, for the cosmic war against the Mad Titan left its mark on many corners of the galaxy.

 

“Take us there! No, wait, over there!” Loki yells as he snaps pictures with the Stark Phone Thor has gifted to him, for the one he’d been using was indeed stolen.

 

“Careful,” Thor warns when Loki hops on the bench for a better angle of Idunn’s newly planted orchard. There are only two trees, nothing more than saplings even with the growth-aiding seidr, but time and patience will see the orchard bloom.

 

Loki hops down and plops himself on Thor’s knee, squeezing under a muscled arm until they’re pressed together, cheek to cheek. “I want a selfie,” he announces, and holds the phone in front of their faces as his other hand sneaks behind Thor’s head for what Thor suspects are little snifflesnout ears.

 

Thor flashes a smile for the camera and Loki seems pleased with the result, flipping through the collection of pictures he’s taken on their tour around the city.

 

“Are you going to put those on the Facebook?”

 

Loki wrinkles his nose and rolls his eyes at Thor. “Maybe, if I was old and lame like you.”

 

“Hey! I’ll have you know that I was voted the coolest Avenger three years in a row,” Thor says in mock offense.

 

“Well, obviously, but considering the competition, the bar isn’t very high. You have your fangirls, sure, but I already have six sockpuppets that I use to defend you.” Thor frowns at the odd choice of word, but he nods along. “You have no idea what bullshit some losers say about you online, but you don’t have to worry, brother, I’m taking them down, hater by hater.”

 

“You have my gratitude, Loki.” Thor ruffles his windswept hair and steers the skiff down into the scholar’s district.

 

“Why is everything in this city so empty?” Loki asks, peering over the railing at the new and improved halls of knowledge that house only a handful of wisemen. “I went to the library the other day and most of the shelves in there only had a handful of books.”

 

Thor nods, his brow creased. “Almost everything we had was destroyed when old Asgard fell. Most of our possessions are donations from Midgard and old allies across the galaxy.”

 

Thor feels Loki grow tense against his flank, the gaze in his eyes suddenly distant as he stares at the empty courtyards below them. “I-I remember fire,” he gasps. “Surtur came…”

 

“Aye. With his sword in hand.”

 

Loki’s eyes widen with sudden realization. “ _I_ was the one who brought him there!”

 

Thor tightens his hold on Loki’s waist and tilts his face up. “There was no other way, Loki. No other way for us to escape. It was a heavy price, but Asgard is a people and our people survive. That is what truly matters.”

 

Loki swallows and the horror in his eyes lingers even as he nods. “Okay.”

 

They conclude their tour with a visit to a tailor, and Thor sits outside the dressing room, browsing through his correspondence with friends across the galaxy and people he hopes to turn into future allies. He gets the occasional note from New York, but he has mostly retired the title of an Avenger, and unless Earth comes under another cosmic threat, Thor’s priorities lie with his own people.

 

“You can come and look now!” Loki calls from behind the curtain.

 

Thor pockets his device and pokes his head into the dressing room where Loki stands on a small stool, spreading his arms and watching Thor’s reaction through the tall mirror.

 

“Well?”

 

Thor’s mouth curves up and he’s struck with a sudden wave of nostalgia as he takes in the mix of green, black and gold Loki has picked for himself. It seems even death cannot change his brother’s preferences. The outfit is lighter than the ones he wore in the past, for there’s no heavy leather or cumbersome shoulder paddings designed to intimidate. Just a form-fitting jerkin over black velvet and a pair of flattering leggings.

 

His dark curls are kept away from his face with a golden headpiece, but in place of sharp horns are two small wings, rising from the edge of the metal band.

 

“Thooor?” Loki whines impatiently, and there’s a spark of insecurity in his eyes as he shoots Thor a peeved look through the mirror.

 

“You look lovely, brother,” Thor nods, and takes a hold of Loki’s narrow waist to spin him around. “You always did.”

 

Loki rewards his flattery with a well-pleased grin and looks over his shoulder, giving his reflection an assessing look. “How old do you think I am?”

 

Thor shakes his head, taken aback by the question. “It’s hard to say… Technically, you were brought back into existence at the same time when New Asgard was created.”

 

“That was last spring.” Loki gapes at his reflection. “So I’m only four months old?!”

 

Thor chuckles at Loki's shocked expression. “You’re quite ageless, brother, for you are a god. Your memories span over centuries, but your physical form is quite young still.”

 

“I’m not some kid,” Loki huffs.

 

“No, you are not,” Thor agrees, careful not to sound condescending.

 

“Am I old enough to come to the tavern with you?” Loki smirks, his eyes crinkling with familiar mischief as he spins a lock of blond hair around his finger.

 

“Perhaps, in a year or two.” Thor lifts Loki off the stool. “So, do you like your new outfit?”

 

“It’s cool. Not as fine as the ones old Solveig used to make, but it beats shuffling around in that tent you call a tunic.” Loki adjusts his headpiece and gives Thor his best pleading pup look, the slant of his eyebrows quite ridiculous. “Can we go to the goldsmith down the street? I want more bling.”

 

“More bling, huh? You always were a vain creature, Loki,” Thor snorts, but he knows he’d fetch rings of pure nightsilver from the bottomless mines of Kastar should his brother only ask for one. Come to think of it, he once did.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Loki’s skills in magic and other more mundane subjects have not been restored with his memories and Thor has hired him a handful of tutors. He is clever still, but he has much to relearn, and Loki spends most of his afternoons with his nose stuck in a book.

 

Thor’s own days are filled with his many kingly duties, for Asgard’s role as a protector of the realms has not changed even after its temporary destruction, and it’s not just his own people who require Thor’s attention. He’s typing out a communication to Xandar to see if they require any aid with their own rebuilding efforts, but his gaze keeps wandering to Loki’s stolen Stark Phone, half buried under a stack of papers.

 

The device has been out of power for weeks now, but Thor can’t help but wonder if there is some clue on it that might tell him how Loki spent his time on Midgard.

 

He finishes his message and takes the device in his hand, a spark of electricity from his fingertip all it takes to bring the thing back to life. He cannot guess what password Loki might have used in his mortal life, but Midgardian technology, even Stark Tech, is primitive compared to what most other realms have in use, and Thor gives the phone another small zap to bypass the lock screen.

 

There are a handful of applications, but only one of them holds the information Thor is looking for. It appears to be some manner of virtual marketplace and he feels a jab of guilt as he flips through Loki’s correspondence, but it’s quickly replaced with anger at his own failure when he realizes what his brother had been up to.

 

He should have gotten to Loki the moment he was brought back from death’s door.

 

There are dozens of contacts in the logs, people his brother has hustled by selling them stolen goods under several different aliases. Phones, timepieces, handbags, likely anything and everything Loki had gotten his hands on sneaking around in crowded places.

 

“Loki…” Thor sighs and rubs at his temple. He wants to be angry at the knowledge that his brother had reverted to his mischievous ways even in rebirth, but he knows Loki’s options were limited, and he’s seen enough street kids to know that things can get much worse than peddling some stolen goods.

 

He turns the device off and slips it into a drawer. Perhaps he can send it to Stark and have his friend track down at least some of the people his brother had swindled, and help Thor compensate.

 

He looks up when the door to his study is pushed open and Loki pokes his head through the gap.

 

“Done with your lessons already?” Thor asks, his smile a little forced.

 

“Done,” Loki nods, hands behind his back as he strides across the room and comes to stand before Thor’s desk. There’s a mischievous spark in his eyes and Thor arches his brows when he realizes Loki is hiding something in his hands.

 

“What have you got behind your back, little trickster?”

 

Loki’s smile turns self-satisfied and he presents Thor with what appears to be a malformed paper knife. The blade is so crooked that it would probably tear through any letter, and the hilt has a large dent in it, but Loki looks pleased with his work.

 

“I made it for you.” He gives the knife a little spin before handing it to Thor. “Jarnleif is teaching me conjuration and alteration. Pretty neat, huh? I mean, that used to be a regular old butter knife.”

 

Thor rolls the crooked blade in his hands and offers what he hopes to be an impressed nod, his mouth twitching as he holds back a laugh. He has no doubt that the thing functioned better as a butter knife, but Loki’s gesture is truly touching.

 

“Thank you, brother, I’m most impressed,” he says earnestly.

 

Loki arches his brows and fails to suppress his own laugh. He rolls his eyes and lets out a wheezing snort. “Oh come on, that thing is hideous. I know you’re not blind, brother.” He attempts to take the knife from Thor’s hand, but Thor cradles it against his chest.

 

“No, I love it,” Thor says defensively. “It may not open a single envelope, but I’ll still treasure it.”

 

Loki shakes his head and gives Thor an amused look. “Whatever.”

 

He turns his eyes on Stormbreaker and walks to the pedestal it rests on when Thor has no use for it. “So I can’t help but notice that you have a new weapon, but I seem to remember that you and that hammer of yours were pretty inseparable.” Loki raps his knuckles against the axe’s uru head and throws Thor a puzzled look over his shoulder. “What happened to it?”

 

Thor closes his eyes for a moment, the pain he feels at the loss of his faithful companion creeping into his voice when he speaks. “Mjölnir was destroyed beyond repair.”

 

“ _What?_ ” Loki gasps, shocked by the mere notion.

 

“Our sister crushed it with her bare hand, broke it into a thousand pieces.”

 

“On the fields below the city…” Loki finishes as the memory of Hela becomes unclouded in his mind. He shakes his head and exhales a long sigh. “She was just the worst, wasn’t she?”

 

“She really was,” Thor agrees, for there is no other way to describe their sister, who in mere days caused more mayhem than most villains manage in a lifetime. He gets on his feet and joins Loki by the weapon stand. “The entire house of cards came down soon after that.”

 

Loki meets his eyes and there’s genuine sympathy in his gaze. “I’m sorry, I know how much you liked your hammer. And it was a pretty wicked weapon.”

 

“Thank you.” Thor turns his eyes on his new axe and gives the wooden shaft an affectionate stroke. “Stormbreaker is a capable successor, though.”

 

“But only those who are worthy may wield it and blah blah blah, right?” Loki scoffs, rolling his eyes.

 

“Naturally,” Thor grins. He gives his brother a playful wink. “Care to try?”

 

Loki waves his hand dismissively and tries to feign disinterest, but it’s not convincing enough to fool Thor, who finds that reading his young brother is much easier than it used to be. “Pfft, I don’t need some magic weapon to tell me if I’m worthy or not.” He lifts his chin and cocks his brow. “I already know I am.”

 

Thor clasps his hand behind Loki’s neck and bends down to look him in the eye. “I agree.”

 

He turns around to return to his work, but he pauses when he hears a light scrape of metal against stone. It’s followed by Loki’s surprised gasp, and Thor smiles to himself; it appears his axe agrees with what Thor already knew.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The coast they’ve chosen to settle on is rainy throughout the autumn months, but Thor manages to keep the weather in Asgard quite pleasant with a few well-placed sunstones and a bottle of pure, unfiltered, Alfheim light in the translucent shield that stretches across the city.

 

The reality of ruling over Asgard is nothing like the naive notions of never-ending feasts and adoration of the masses Thor had in his youth, but the burden of the throne doesn’t feel so heavy now that he has his brother by his side. Loki is still too young to be involved in any official capacity, but Thor knows he’ll be a great advisor once he grows older, much like their mother was to the Allfather.

 

But where their father used to govern from a distance, holding audiences before Hlidsjkalf and in his grand council rooms, Thor prefers a more hands-on approach. He enjoys meeting with farmers and tavern owners as much as he likes a good strategic chat with Brunnhilde about the training of their new force of legendary warriors over a tankard of ale.

 

Today, he’s inspecting a new mill in the western fields with Sif and Loki in tow, aware of the suspicious gazes they throw each other behind his back. It’s clear that some of the bad blood from the past still lingers between them, but it doesn’t tend to go beyond the occasional snide remark from Loki and a long-suffering sigh from Sif.

 

“That mill stone is way too large, brother,” Loki announces out of the blue, pointing his gloved finger at the well-oiled machine that, at least to Thor’s eye, appears to work at a fine pace.

 

“What do you mean it’s too large?” Thor and Sif ask in unison.

 

“I mean that it’ll break off by next harvest if you don’t fix it. Can’t you see the way it’s grinding on that cogwheel and eating away at the wood?”

 

Thor squints his eyes at the wheel and Sif shoots Loki a peeved look as they realize his brother has a point.

 

“Well. I’ll just have to make a note to fix that, won’t I?” Thor sighs.

 

The city is quite functional, but it’s true that it requires some fine adjustments in places, and Thor most certainly won’t be creating another city from scratch for at least five centuries.

 

They continue their inspection tour in the business district, and Sif takes notes on everything that requires Thor’s attention as he listens to people share whatever troubles their mind. He knows no one truly expects the king to pay a personal visit to every local business owner, and he likely won’t have time for this in a century or two, but they seem pleased to see Thor take interest in their matters, and Thor in turn enjoys their company.

 

“Do you have anything to add, brother?” Thor asks pointedly when they prepare to leave the bakery.

 

Loki looks up from his phone, his cheeks round with freshly baked cinnamon tarts. “I’m good,” he grins, stuffing another tart into his pocket as he continues to flip through amusing images of Midgardian felines.

 

Thor laughs under his breath, but his smile fades when he turns to look at Sif who shoves her stack of notes at his chest.

 

“I need a drink,” she sighs. “I think Brunnhilde owes me a round or two. Care to join us?”

 

Thor shakes his head, for he plans to take Loki somewhere special today. “Another time, my friend.”

 

Sif gives a dismissing wave, already stalking towards the nearest tavern.

 

Thor heads in the opposite direction, to a quiet side street, and beckons Loki to follow. “Come, I want to show you something.”

 

The garden Thor created in their mother’s memory is no longer in its summer bloom, but it’s no less beautiful, the little pathways and evergreen hedges covered under a colorful layer of fallen leaves.

 

“This is the first thing I created,” Thor says as he leads Loki into a secluded little grove.

 

“A garden?” Loki snickers. “I would’ve guessed a mead hall to be higher up on your list of priorities.”

 

“I do like a good ale,” Thor smiles, “but the memory of our mother comes before all else.”

 

“Oh…” Loki blinks at him and there’s something almost reverent in his eyes as he bends down to pick a small leaf from the ground, green and red in its autumn coat. “It’s really pretty here.”

 

They take a seat on a small wooden bench under an alder tree, its branches bare and spindly.

 

“Do you remember our mother?” Thor asks after a beat.

 

Loki nods and rests his head against Thor’s bicep, twirling the little leaf between his fingers. “I remember her smile and how her hair used to smell like snowcotton blooms when she came to wish us a good night,” Loki says, his voice wet and fragile. “She was always so kind and I have this awful feeling… like I disappointed her?” His fingers begin to tremble and the leaf falls and lands between their feet. “Did she know that I loved her?”

 

“Of course she knew.” Thor encloses Loki’s hands between his own and settles them on his lap, the velvet of Loki’s gloves soft against his thumb as he brushes it over his knuckles. “She was always proud of you, Loki.”

 

“I miss her so much. Father, too.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Can’t we bring them back?” Loki asks, the pleading look he gives Thor piercing him almost like a physical strike.

 

“I believe they are happy in Valhalla, Loki. I don’t think they feel the need to return and it would be cruel to force them back from their well-earned rest.”

 

Loki’s mouth trembles and his shoulders sag, but he gives a small nod to show that he understands.

 

They listen to the gentle rustle of wind in the leaves for a moment, but Thor can sense his brother is troubled by something. “What’s on your mind, Loki?”

 

Loki averts his gaze, but Thor tilts his chin up with a gentle finger until his brother meets his eyes. “How exactly did I come back?” Loki asks. “In this body?”

 

Thor has no definitive answer to his question and he shakes his head, turning his eyes to the bare branches that stretch above them. “I believe it had something to do with the ancient void I used to create our new home. All I know is that you were gone for years and I missed you terribly, and now you’re here and my heart is content once more.”

 

Loki looks down at their joined hands and his expression darkens. “And how did I die?”

 

“Loki…” Thor shakes his head, the pain of his loss suddenly as raw as it was three years ago, when he was forced to watch as the most important person in his life was taken from him. “Please, do not ask me that.”

 

“Thor, I have to know,” Loki insists, tugging on Thor’s hands. “Tell me, please.”

 

Thor sucks in the crisp autumn air and waits for the pain to pass before he meets his brother’s eyes. “You died a hero, brother. You died an honorable death to give our people a chance to flee.” He cups Loki’s face in his hands and leans down to kiss his brow. “You gave _me_ a chance.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

As the days grow shorter and the dark of winter deepens, Loki begins to have nightmares. He sleeps in the room next to Thor’s own bedroom, and Thor can often hear him toss and turn and cry out in his sleep. He asks Loki about his dreams in the morning, but his brother claims he has no memory of them even as the circles around his eyes grow darker. He spends much of his free time on the empty fields around the city, alone with his thoughts, and Thor gives him space and doesn’t press the issue when Loki returns after nightfall, hoping that his brother will speak to him when he is ready.

 

“I reckon it’s those lost memories that disturb him in his sleep,” Brunnhilde says. She downs the row of shots the barmaid sitting on her knee has set before her and shakes her head at the afterburn. “Like it or not, your brother did some questionable shit in his past life.” She takes in the look on Thor’s face and adds, “Your Majesty,” as if the use of his title will somehow soften the sharp edge of her words.

 

Thor gives no response, for he knows his friend is right. He empties his own tankard and lets his eyes wander around the tavern. The mood is cheerful as it should be, but it’s more quiet than it was in the old days, for there are not as many people around to fill the seats and make merry.

 

Most of Asgard has seen Loki in his company, and even though Thor has made no official announcement about his brother’s sudden revival, people can guess the raven-haired boy clad in green can only be Loki.

 

Loki’s role in the rescue of their people is well-remembered, and Thor is relieved when Huginn and Muninn tell him there are no mean whispers in the air, for he stands by his words and truly believes his young brother is innocent of his past crimes.

 

It’s close to midnight when he returns from the tavern and the house has fallen quiet for the night. He drapes his winter cape, wet from snowfall, over a chair and sits down to remove his boots, but he’s barely touched the first clasp when a cry from Loki’s room draws his attention.

 

Thor is across the room in a heartbeat, rushing to Loki’s bedside. He lights the amber lamp on the night table and kneels by the bed. His brother tosses under the covers, wailing like a wounded animal as his dreams continue to plague him, and Thor presses his palm against Loki’s brow, finding it cold and clammy.

 

“Loki,” he whispers, giving his brother a gentle shake. “Wake up, it’s only a dream.”

 

Loki trembles in his hold and lets out a shrill cry as his hands fly up and wrap protectively around his slender neck. His eyes flash open and he blinks at Thor, the look in them glazed over with past horrors.

 

“It’s alright, you’re alright,” Thor murmurs, combing his fingers through sweat-matted locks.

 

“Thor?”

 

“I’m here, brother.”

 

Loki lets out a choked breath and continues to hold onto his neck. Thor feels his heart ache at the sight, able to guess what was in his brother’s dreams tonight.

 

“Do you want to tell me about your dream?” Thor asks, his fingers still brushing through Loki’s hair.

 

His brother hesitates and averts his gaze to the window. “I don’t think they’re dreams. I-I think they might be memories.”

 

“Aye, I think so too,” Thor nods.

 

Loki continues to look out the window, a beam of moonlight from the gap in the drapes painting a line of silver on his cheek. His throat bobs as he swallows and his fingers fiddle with the embroidery on the blanket. “Thor… Am I bad?”

 

The question steals the air out of Thor’s lungs and he drops his hand to Loki’s shoulder.

 

“Do I have a wicked heart?” Loki continues, and Thor can’t stand how horribly vulnerable he sounds. “I know I’ve done wicked things, so I must be bad.”

 

“Loki, no.” Thor takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and pulls Loki into his arms. “You are not bad and your heart is not wicked.”

 

“Not even like this?” Loki pulls back from Thor’s embrace. His breaths grow rapid as he squeezes his eyes shut and Thor sees his complexion and visage shift before his eyes, milky white to cobalt blue, the green of his eyes red like lifeblood. “I remember we fought, I… I hurt you.”

 

Thor traces his fingers over the faint raised lines on Loki’s cheek, half-expecting a frostbite that never comes. “Things were complicated in our family. Many hurts were left unsaid and allowed to fester and rot. We both made mistakes, as did Mother and Father, and there was a time when we were on different sides.”

 

“And we fought?”

 

Thor cups Loki behind his neck and strokes his thumb against his earlobe, the blue of his skin already fading back. “Aye, we fought, hurt each other with words and blades in equal measure. But in the end, we stood side by side again, and that’s what truly matters, brother.”

 

“You forgave me?” Loki asks. He lets out a small sniffle and reaches up to rub at his eyes.

 

“I did, just as _you_ forgave _me_ ,” Thor smiles. His eyes linger on Loki’s face, puffy with sleep, the shadows underneath his eyes like bruises in the amber light. “You should get some sleep, now,” Thor says, and tucks Loki back under the quilts. “Shall I leave the door open?”

 

Loki nods, his jaws parting with a deep yawn. “Good night, Thor.”

 

“Good night, brother,” Thor whispers, watching Loki from the door for a moment before slipping into his own chambers.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As Midgard prepares to celebrate Yule, Thor travels to New York for the first time since the War ended and his people settled into Norway. He spends the first few days in a meeting room with Stark, Banner and Danvers, and some of the senior members of the new Avengers, but most of his visit consists of pleasant reunions, and he even makes time to pop in at the Sanctum Sanctorum for a pint of ale.

 

Loki texts him almost every hour, sending him selfies and random images he calls _memes_ , and Thor has to admit that some of them are quite funny. He can tell his brother is sour about being left behind, no matter how many times Thor tells him that he’d only be bored while Thor is stuck in a meeting room.

 

He tells himself that this is indeed the reason why he left Loki home, but if he’s honest with himself, he isn’t quite sure if Earth’s mightiest heroes are ready to meet one of the realm’s most well-remembered supervillains, even if his brother has been born anew.

 

Stark likely knows, for his wife was responsible for clearing out the mess that followed from the leaked footage of Thor collecting his brother from London, but the rest of his colleagues are unaware of Asgard’s young prince and so it shall remain, for it is no one’s business who Thor decides to resurrect.

 

He arrives in his rooms for a change of clothes after a sweaty training session with Parker and Khan, and the Stark Phone in his pants chimes just as he’s about to pull them down. He takes it out and finds a couple of new messages from Loki.

 

**14:24 Loki: Thor.**

 

**14:45 Loki: THOR!!!**

 

**14:46 You: What is it, Loki?**

 

**14:46 Loki: I remembered something new today.**

 

**14:51 You: Another memory? That is wonderful news. What did you remember?**

 

**14:55 You: Loki? Are you done keeping me in suspense?**

 

**14:55 Loki: >:)**

 

**14:56 Loki: I remembered how you used to dress in that purple drapery from Mother’s bedroom and you’d run around the palace telling everyone you’d joined the Valkyries. You even made me braid your hair.**

 

**14:57 You: That is a wonderful memory indeed.**

 

**14:57 Loki: ???????**

 

**14:57 Loki: You were supposed to be embarrassed by that!**

 

**14:58 Loki: You’re boring.**

 

**15:03 You: Perhaps you’re simply losing your touch, brother =) Now, stay out of trouble and perhaps I’ll bring you a gift when I return.**

 

**15:03 Loki: For real? New Stark Tech???**

 

**15:07 Loki: Thor!!!**

 

**15:08 You: Stay out of trouble, Loki.**

 

Thor pockets his phone, his smile pleased as he eyes the bag of brand new gadgets Stark has gifted to him. He chuckles at the memory of himself in their mother’s drapes and wonders if Loki has recalled anything else while he’s been away.

 

Their lives have been long and eventful, and it is quite impossible to remember every sunrise and sunset and what fits between in the short time Loki has been back among the living. Thor hopes his brother will eventually recover most of his past, even if parts of it are no doubt bitter and painful.

 

He’s already begun to wonder if things between them will change when Loki finally remembers that the close bond between them used to go beyond simple brotherhood.

 

They were only youths when they first fell into bed together, and Loki, who was a few centuries younger, had not yet come of age. Thor used to feel guilty about it for the first few decades, but his brother was even more stubborn than Thor’s old goats and he’d follow him to secluded places, seduce and sweet-talk until Thor was out of his lust-addled young mind.

 

Loki is beautiful in his new form, charming and sometimes endearingly sweet in a way he never was in the past, but Thor has kept his feelings well-guarded, unsure if Loki would still welcome a more amorous form of love now that Thor is a grown man while Loki’s physical body appears centuries younger.

 

His mind, too, holds a sense of innocence his past self had lost ages ago. He’s as sharp as Thor remembers and wise beyond his years, but there are times when their conversations make Thor feel old, and the sheer size of him next to Loki’s lithe form reminds him that this is not the brother he’d bedded in their past life.

 

Loki is lounging in their sitting-room when Thor opens a portal between Asgard and New York two days later. His brother drops his spell book from his hands and rushes across the room to greet him, but the hug he gives Thor turns a little awkward as he hesitates and tries to pull away at the last moment.

 

Thor lets out a puzzled laugh when Loki backs away from the embrace. “What is it?”

 

“Nothing…” Loki has always been a skilled liar, but Thor can see right through his feeble denial, the bright spots of color that rise to his cheeks also a dead giveaway. “Did you bring me anything?” Loki asks, rushing to change the topic. He circles behind Thor’s back, and the large Stark Industries logo on the bag in Thor’s hand lights a greedy glint in his eyes.

 

Loki snatches the bag like a little viper and flits away to dig through its contents.

 

“Don’t I at least get a thank you?” Thor laughs, trying to summon a hint of reprimand into his voice and failing miserably. “Those are next year’s models, you know? The mortals won’t have them in their shops for a few months.”

 

Loki looks up from his new Stark Pad and beams at Thor, clearly pleased about getting his hands on something ahead of Midgardians. He tucks his hair behind his ears and appears almost shy as he walks up to Thor and pulls him down by his shoulders.

 

“Thank you, brother.”

 

Thor blinks, taken aback by the kiss he receives on his cheek. He touches his face and his skin tingles where Loki’s lips pressed only a moment ago. “Uh. You’re welcome.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Loki’s behavior turns more peculiar over the next few weeks. His presence fills their shared quarters with nervous energy and Thor takes note of the way Loki’s gazes have begun to linger. There’s a certain awkward stiffness in his limbs whenever he’s in Thor’s company, staring at him like he’s deep in thought only to turn pink in the cheeks when Thor asks him if there’s something stuck in his beard.

 

Thor feels like he’s seen it all before, back when they were young and the lust between them was still new. He’d circle his brother like a beast in rut and Loki in turn pranced around like a preening peacock.

 

Thor watches his brother from the sitting room door, taking in the way Loki has arranged himself in his favorite chair, one leg crossed over the other, his hip cocked as he sets a row of chess pieces on the board for their game night. He’s dressed in his finest velvets, like it’s a special occasion and not just a weekly routine they’ve adopted over the winter. The collar and sleeves of his overcoat are trimmed with soft fur, and his wrists jingle with gold as he sets another chess piece on the board.

 

Thor feels a little nostalgic at the sight and his cheeks heat up at the sudden curl of lust deep in his belly. He combs his fingers through his hair and clears his throat as he enters the room. “Are we all set for our game?” he asks, and pours himself a goblet of wine before joining Loki by the hearth.

 

“We are if you’re ready to lose again, brother,” Loki smirks.

 

Thor scoffs at the jeer and eyes the row of white chess pieces for a moment before making his first move.

 

They used to play a lot in the past, but rarely finished a single match before Thor either flipped the game board over when he realized his brother was cheating, or the pieces went toppling down because Loki was in a rush to climb into Thor’s lap and devour him.

 

The sky outside their windows grows darker as they regard each other over the game board after every move. They are fairly evenly matched, for Loki’s mind might be knife-sharp, but Thor has always been good with tasks that require strategic thinking.

 

He rubs at his chin and takes a slow sip from his goblet as he considers his remaining moves. He can feel his brother’s eyes on him, the weight of his gaze more intense than it has been on any other night. He looks up just as Loki drops his eyes to the board and he pretends not to notice, hiding his smile behind his goblet as he makes his move.

 

“Aha!” Loki moves his own piece on the board and reaches across the small table for Thor’s goblet. Thor relinquishes his hold on it and stares as Loki takes a long sip, his lips berry-red when he sets it down. “Checkmate.”

 

Thor clears his throat and averts his gaze from his brother’s mouth. “A game well-played. And you didn’t even cheat. I’m impressed.”

 

“Well, in that case, care to play something else, brother?” Loki asks, and there’s a sly edge in his voice that gives Thor pause.

 

He rises from his seat and puts away his empty goblet, unsure how to navigate these suddenly shifting waters. “Perhaps another night, Loki, for I had planned to visit the tavern for an ale or two before bed.”

 

“Can I come?” Loki asks, his voice honeyed as he comes to stand behind Thor’s back.

 

“Don’t you have lessons in the morning?” Thor asks, aware that he still hasn’t turned around, his fingers wrapped around the empty goblet. “I think you’d best head to bed.”

 

“ _Bed?_ ” Loki scoffs, circling the table until Thor is forced to look him in the eye. “I’m not some little brat you send to bed after nightfall.”

 

“Of course not, but, Loki-”

 

“Then why do you treat me like one? I’m a _god_. And if I were down on Midgard, I bet I’d be old enough to drink.”

 

“I very much doubt that,” Thor huffs, but he straightens his face when he sees the rising ire in Loki’s eyes, now dangerously narrowed. He’s been on the receiving end of his brother’s wrath enough times to finally know when to tread carefully. “Loki, it’s not that I think you’re too young to share a tankard of ale with me, but I’m not going there just for leisure, for Brunnhilde and Sif often give me their reports over a drink or two.”

 

Thor attempts to cup his brother by his neck in their familiar gesture, but Loki slaps his hand away and crosses his arms over his chest. “So Sif is coming.” He levels Thor with a barbed look, and it’s not quite as effective as it used to be, closer to a pout really, but Thor recognizes the jealousy behind it.

 

His brother always was a possessive creature.

 

“Aye, she will likely be there. But so will Korg and Miek, who are visiting with news from the Boondocks,” he adds, but Loki’s gaze remains icy. He turns on his heel and retreats into his own chamber, closing the door with a loud bang.

 

Thor rubs at his temple and prays he won’t find his bed full of itchworms or some other form of nasty when he returns.

 

The evening at the tavern goes on a little longer than Thor intended, but it’s impossible for him to excuse himself once Valkyrie and Korg begin to arm wrestle and the winner, who turns out to be Brunnhilde, challenges Thor for his title of champion. Which he’s now lost for the first time in six centuries.

 

He’s not exactly drunk, but his steps are a little lighter than usual, his earlier argument with Loki forgotten on the bottom of a tankard. Their shared sitting-room is dark, the fire in the hearth reduced to smoldering embers. The door to Loki’s chambers remains closed and Thor thinks the wisest course of action is to wait until morning and let his brother grow calm.

 

He withdraws into his bedchamber and leaves a trail of garments in his wake as he makes his way to bed. He checks the sheets for any surprise his brother may have left him, but finds them clean, and his mind is pleasantly fuzzy from his last tankard of ale as he settles down.

 

He’s about to drift off when a loud racket from the sitting room startles him back to consciousness.

 

“Thor!”

 

Thor sits up at Sif’s angry bellow, his brow creased as he climbs out of bed and pulls on his tunic from the floor. He hurries to the sitting room and blinks at the sight that awaits him: Sif, angry as a beestung bear and Loki, swaying in her grip and grinning like a little imp.

 

“What… What is this?” Thor sputters.

 

“I found him in my chambers, passed out on my bed with _these_ in his hand,” Sif hisses, holding up a pair of large, slightly malformed shears, and it’s not hard to guess whose handiwork they are.

 

Loki hiccups and lets out an airy chuckle. “I wasn’t passed out. I was just resting my eyes. And those definitely aren’t mine.”

 

Thor takes a quick look at the pitcher of wine he’d been drinking earlier in the evening and finds it empty. Well. That explains why his brother reeks of elven spirits.

 

Sif tightens her hold on Loki’s arm and points the shears at Thor’s face. “He was going to shave my head! And he probably would have succeeded if he wasn’t such a lightweight that he passes out after one pitcher of wine.”

 

“Sif…” Thor shakes his head, but it’s hard to argue when the evidence against his brother is so conclusive.

 

“Don’t you ‘Sif’ me. This wouldn’t even have been the first time your brother attempted to sabotage my hair, for if you recall, I used to be blonde.”

 

Thor pinches the bridge of his nose and gives his friend an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.” He turns his attention to Loki, his expression scolding, but it’s not very effective, for his brother can barely stay on his feet.

 

Sif heaves a deep sigh and pushes Loki into Thor’s arms. “You’d better take him to bed,” she says, too tired to hold on to her anger.

 

“I really am sorry,” Thor says as he scoops Loki into his arms. His brother grins up at him and pokes at Thor’s chin with his finger. “I’ll have a talk with him once he’s sober.”

 

“It’d better be a damned good talk, Thor. And don’t you dare give him anything for the pain when he complains about it in the morning.”

 

They bid each other a good night and Thor carries Loki into bed, settling him on the mattress to pull off his boots.

 

Loki hiccups and pokes at him with his toes. “Thoooor.”

 

“Don’t you ‘Thor’ me,” he huffs, trying to adopt the same scolding tone Sif held in her voice a moment ago, for he knows he should be angry, perhaps even a little disappointed, but he also knows the cause of Loki’s mischief is his own dismissal.

 

Thor tugs the sheets over Loki’s wine-slackened limbs and shakes his head as he watches him snore into his pillow. He knows now that much of Loki’s mischief was always fueled by jealousy, childish pranks that grew more insidious and downright cruel as the years went by and Thor made new friends and fell into lighthearted courtships with young maidens.

 

He studies the shears his brother had conjured in his anger, turning them around in his hands, and wonders if they’re bound to repeat the same mistakes after all.

 

It’s well past mid-morning when Loki finally drags himself out of bed. His hair sticks out every which way and one half of his face is covered in pink patterns from his pillow, his pale visage even paler than normal.

 

In a word, his brother looks absolutely miserable.

 

“Good morning,” Thor says, flashing Loki his most obnoxiously radiant smile.

 

Loki squints at him and tries to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight that floods from the windows the servants have left uncovered on Thor’s request. He shuffles across the room and takes a seat at the breakfast table, greeting Thor with a vague grunt.

 

“I trust you’re hungry?” Thor pushes a plate of bacon towards Loki and tries not to laugh at the way his eyes seem to bulge in his head. “We have boiled eggs, nice crispy sausages, some cold-cuts, beans and paté made with pig grease-”

 

Loki holds up his hand and looks away from the fatty breakfast Thor has ordered for him. “Ugh. Maybe later.”

 

Having had his laugh, Thor finally takes pity on his brother and pours him a goblet of fresh carrot juice. “Alright, drink this. It’ll make you feel better.”

 

Loki wrinkles his nose, but he downs the drink and looks perhaps a shade less pale.

 

“Better?”

 

Loki smacks his mouth and nudges the goblet forward for a refill. “I still feel like a draugr, but I think I’ll survive.”

 

Thor pours his brother more juice and nods at the shears he’s placed on the table. Loki follows his gaze and squirms in his seat, clearly remembering what he’d planned to do with them.

 

“So let me get this straight... Last night, you drank an entire bottle of my vintage three-hundred year old Alheim red, snuck into Sif’s rooms with the intent to cut off her hair only to pass out in her bed where she finally discovered you in a drunken stupor, and dragged _me_ out of bed and chewed my head off for your botched mischief.”

 

Loki rubs at his face and glares at Thor through his fingers.

 

“Loki, I know you and Sif have always had a troubled relationship, but you can’t take your anger out on her if I’m the one who upset you. Certainly not with _these_ ,” he adds, and snaps the crooked shears in front of Loki’s face, though on closer inspection, they do look a bit too dull to cut through anything.

 

Loki drops his gaze to his hands, his expression pinched. "I knew you'd take her side. You always do, ever since we were young.”

 

“I… What?”

 

“I remember now, how you two used to circle each other like cats in heat.” He wrinkles his nose like the words make him physically ill. “No wonder you never wanted me around.”

 

“That is not true,” Thor says, shaking his head at the accusations, and he feels a sting of dread, for this all feels suddenly so familiar.

 

“Yes it is! You’d go on hunting trips and treasure hunts and leave me behind all the time,” Loki spits, the line of his mouth sour.

 

“Loki, you were nearly five centuries younger than us, you were too young to come, Mother forbade it. And once you were old enough to join us, you no longer wanted to come.”

 

“Yeah, well, maybe I just didn’t want to watch you and Sif slobber all over each other,” Loki snarls, his jealousy flaring and on full display.

 

Thor takes a moment to collect his thoughts, speaking as calmly as he can. “I’m truly sorry if you felt left out, brother, but Sif is one of my dearest friends, and there were times when you also counted her among your friends. Now she is one of the few friends I have left, Loki. I wish you didn’t bear her such ill will.”

 

Thor’s words catch Loki off-guard. The tense hostility in his posture fades and the anger on his face drains away, replaced by something that looks a lot like shame. He glances at the shears and bites at his nail, his eyes apologetic as he finally meets Thor’s gaze. “I didn’t mean…” He swallows and drags his fingers through his sleep-tangled hair. “I’m sorry, ok?” He waves his fingers and the shears evaporate in a small cloud of seiðr. “I… I won’t do it again.”

 

Thor reaches across the table and gives Loki’s wrist a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad to hear that, but I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

 

Loki squirms in his seat and lets out a long groan. “Can I at least recover from my first-ever hangover before I face her? She’s kinda scary.”

 

“She is, isn’t she?” Thor snorts, and goes to fetch Loki a small healing stone from his own chambers.

 

Once his brother has recovered from his sore head, Thor finally sends him down to the courtyard where Sif is preparing for the arrival of a group of Vanir visitors.

 

He watches them from the balcony and his brow creases when he sees Loki hesitate and hide behind a pillar. “Go on,” Thor murmurs under his breath.

 

Loki finally steps out and walks up to Sif who regards him with suspicion, but a moment later the two are sitting down for a talk. It ends in a handshake and Thor lets out a relieved laugh, his heart light at the sight of his two dearest friends finally coming to some manner of understanding.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Loki has never been one to give up easily and Thor knows that if his brother wants something, he pursues it relentlessly and isn’t afraid to play dirty.

 

It has become obvious to Thor that his brother’s memories of their past intimacy have resurfaced, and Loki knows that he knows, and so they fall into a strange new game of cat and mouse where Thor finds himself in the role of prey.

 

Where the Loki of old would have taken his time to toy with Thor with subtle teasing, suggestive outfits and carefully placed touches until Thor was ready to pounce him, his younger self goes straight for the kill. Some of the methods remain the same, but they’re less refined and far more aggressive, for Loki lacks the patience and perhaps also the skill to play the long game.

 

The first round begins with a strategic change of sleepwear. Thor has commissioned his brother several outfits for the cold winter months; lush fur-lined capes, vests made of elven silks and comfortable tunics for the bed, but it appears Loki has a new preference.

 

He slinks into Thor’s study one evening, his steps soft on the bearskin rugs as he tiptoes across the room and perches himself on the edge of the desk.

 

Thor glances up from the galactic trade tax document that’s spread out on six different holonet screens, and he has to do a double-take when his eyes land on his brother. He’s slipped into Thor’s own nightshirt, his shoulder exposed where the collar has slid down, and Thor finds himself unable to look away even as his elbow hits the keyboard and half of the pages on the screens get translated into Elder Keldish.

 

He blinks at Loki’s amused peal of laughter and lifts his elbow, swearing under his breath as he tries to undo the translation. “I see you’ve been to my wardrobe,” Thor grumbles, squinting at the mile-long list of language options that pops up in front of his nose until he finally finds the right one.

 

“I have,” Loki replies, and Thor doesn’t have to look up to picture the sly little grin dimpling his cheeks.

 

“Something wrong with your own sleepwear?”

 

“Nope. I just prefer the way yours feel against my skin. Very smooth.”

 

“Ah.” Thor clears his throat and squints at some impossible to pronounce name on the document.

 

Aware that he’s being ignored, Loki jumps off the table, choosing instead to bend over it. He flips his fingers through a stack of papers Thor is meant to go through by morning, the low-hanging collar of his tunic offering Thor a direct view of his rosy nipples.

 

“Loki, I have to work,” Thor says, his brow creasing as he forces his gaze back on the tax issues.

 

“But I’m bored,” Loki pouts. “I wanna play a game.”

 

_Oh, I think you’re already playing_. Thor spreads his thighs underneath the table, resisting the urge to reach down and adjust himself. “Perhaps later, after I’m done with these damned documents that made me miss both lunch and dinner.”

 

“Ugh, lame,” Loki groans, stretching like a cat as he pulls off the table, taking with him the delectable view as he saunters away, his fingers already tapping at his Stark Phone.

 

Thor lets out a strained laugh and slumps against his chair. He finally reaches into his breeches and adjusts his half-hard length, rolling his eyes at the room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Thor has never been a very patient man, a fact that his brother used to mercilessly abuse in their youth. He’d cajole and whisper in Thor’s ear, his words honey-sweet as his questing fingers drove Thor mad with lust even in public, only to slip away and laugh from the shadows as Thor struggled to hide the evidence of his forbidden want.

 

Thor still isn’t a patient man, but he makes an effort to delay the inevitable, for he quite enjoys Loki’s little game of seduction.

 

The second round involves the portraits his brother refers to as selfies. Loki has been bombarding Thor with random pictures on an almost daily basis, and his favorite subject are the Midgardian cats the locals have allowed their people to adopt, much smaller than the ones they used to have, but still quite handsome beasts.

 

Thor’s Stark Phone chimes in the pouch on his belt, but he ignores it and turns his focus back on the conversation he’s having with Brunnhilde as they circle the training yard in the Hall of the Valkyries. The air is full of angry shouts and clatter of wooden swords as the young Valkyries-in-training take turns to beat the everloving crap out of each other in the ring.

 

“I’m thinking of sending some of my girls to the moon of Hox next summer. There’s a dragon in the quarry, a nice old firebreather. The girls could use a real challenge-” Brunnhilde pauses in her step and arches her brow at Thor when his phone chimes with another message. “You gonna see who it is, Majesty?”

 

Thor gives a dismissing wave even as the device lets out another chime.

 

“Could be important,” she smirks, clearly aware of who in Asgard has the bad habit of abusing Thor’s Midgardian messaging application.

 

Thor sighs and reaches into his pouch to pull out his phone.

 

**18:32 Loki: Brother I found another cat.**

 

**18:33 Loki: Do you wanna see?**

 

**18:34 Loki: It’s the cutest one yet!**

 

**18:35 You: Loki, I’m in a meeting with Valkyrie.**

 

**18:35 Loki: :(((**

 

**18:36 Loki: :(((((((((((((**

 

**18:37 You: Very well, let’s see your cat.**

 

Thor stares at his phone, but Loki takes so long to respond that the screen turns off and Thor has to wake it up twice. He shoots Brunnhilde an apologetic look, about to pocket the device when it vibrates in his palm.

 

He opens the picture Loki has attached into his message and nearly chokes on his own breath as it lodges in his throat.

 

There is no feline in Loki’s picture, or there is, if you count the pink nose and the fluffy little ears and whiskers his brother has somehow pasted on his own face. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth and one of his hands is raised in a cute little imitation of a paw.  

 

Thor stares at the picture, unable to tear his eyes away even as he feels his cheeks heat up. There’s a caption over the picture and all it says is “Meow”.

 

Part of Thor regrets ever putting this accursed piece of Midgardian technology in his brother’s hands even as he fumbles with his phone to hurry and store the photograph on the hard drive. He finally looks up from the screen when Brunnhilde clears her throat, one corner of her mouth pulling up in an amused and somehow knowing smile.

 

“You alright there, Majesty?”

 

Thor hurries to pocket his phone and gives a stiff nod. “Quite alright.”

 

“Shall we continue?”

 

“We shall.”

 

“Alright then.” Brunnhilde goes back to telling Thor about her plans for her Valkyries, but Thor barely hears her, his mind still stuck on Loki’s little kitty show.

 

The pictures grow more bold in the following weeks and Thor has quickly learned not to open them if he has company. He’s been summoned to another meeting on the compound in New York and Loki has once again been left behind, but this time, the revenge is more personal.

 

Thor feels his phone go off in the pocket of his jeans and he knows his concentration is gone for the rest of the meeting. He holds up his hand and excuses himself, the phone burning in his pocket as he seeks out the nearest lavatory, and he’s barely managed to lock himself in a cubicle when his hand is reaching into his pocket, his fingers clumsy as he hurries to unlock the device.

 

And there it is, the latest entry in a series of increasingly tempting self-portraits designed to drive Thor mad and eat away at his resolve. There’s not a hint of subtlety in the way Loki is pouting at him from the small screen, lazing on a bed (and oh Norns, it’s Thor’s own bed), his hair splayed in loose waves on the white cotton of the pillow, one hand reaching down for something that is out of the frame.

 

The caption reads “I want you to come home,” and Thor can practically hear the sulky demand behind it.

 

He takes another look at Loki’s hand and his nostrils flare when he realizes what his brother’s fingers are reaching for. His belt is undone and his own hand is in his boxers before he can even pause to think, his blood rushing between his thighs so fast that his groin tingles.

 

He takes himself in hand and strokes, fast and sloppy, his eyes fixed on the still form of his brother on the sleek screen. He feels no guilt over his actions, for he knew they would arrive here sooner or later, and Loki, it seems, prefers the former. He almost drops the phone when he spills, his satisfied groan echoing from the sterile white tiles.

 

He washes his hands in the sink and types Loki a quick response, promising to be home that very evening, making no mention of how he’ll be cutting his visit in New York short. He’s quite certain his brother’s smile is smug enough already.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Round three is when their game ends and they both emerge as winners.

 

The mood between them has been quite peculiar since Thor’s return, the air in the room almost cloying with unspoken anticipation. They share their usual evening meal and Loki tells Thor about all the mischief he absolutely, most definitely hasn’t done in his absence, and even if he has, the trolls of the online space deserve it.

 

They play a round of Nornheim checkers and have their usual evening bath, Loki first, for Thor enjoys the scent of his oils and lotions that always lingers in his wake. His brother has already withdrawn into his bedroom when Thor emerges, but he has a feeling the evening is far from over.

 

He lights a small fire in the hearth and readies himself for bed, leaving on his lightly woven smallclothes. He rarely takes his phone to bed with him, but Thor can guess he’ll have use for it tonight.

 

He’s settled against the pillows, his muscles relaxed, eyes half-lidded as he watches the flames in the hearth, and it’s barely been five minutes when his phone chimes with a message.

 

His cock jolts at the sound like a well-conditioned beast and his gaze turns dark with anticipation as he opens the attachment.

 

It appears Loki has finally gone for the jugular.

 

The picture he sends leaves no room for guessing, his intention clear in the way his long fingers are wrapped around his cock underneath the sheer cloth of his smallclothes, his belly tense with pleasure.

 

The picture is a little shaky and most of his brother’s face is hidden outside the frame, but Thor feels himself harden at the sliver of Loki’s red mouth, pink tongue peeking out between his smirking lips.

 

He squeezes his cock and feels it fatten as he appreciates the photo for a while longer before he finally throws the blanket aside, just enough to allow his own device to capture the sight of his bare chest and the half-hard length of his cock where it rests against the crease of his thigh inside his underwear.

 

He sends his response and puts his phone away, his smile a little smug as he folds his hands behind his head and waits.

 

The hinges on his bedroom door announce his visitor a moment later and he listens to the sound of bare feet on the rug, soft and light like cat’s paws as they move across the room. The mattress dips and rustles under his brother’s weight and he feels the blanket lift as Loki slips underneath it.

 

Thor licks his lips and arches his brow at his brother who now sits in his lap, legs astride, the thin fabric of their smallclothes the only thing between them.

 

“Brother,” Thor says, his tone playful as he arches his brows. “Any particular reason why you’re in my bed, perched in my lap?”

 

“You know there is.”

 

“Do I?”

 

“ _Thor_ ,” Loki whines, and Thor can hear the nervous edge in his voice.

 

“So I take this to mean that you finally remember?” Thor asks, and he settles his hands on Loki’s hips, brushing his thumbs against sharp bone and soft skin.

 

“Not… not all of it. But I remember enough,” Loki says. He presses his palms against Thor’s shoulders and leans down, his face cast in shadow even as the firelight behind him gives his body a golden halo. “I remember this,” Loki whispers against Thor’s lips, his breath warm as he fits their mouths together.

 

“A good memory indeed,” Thor murmurs. He cups Loki’s jaw to correct the angle a little and licks into his brother’s mouth.

 

Loki opens for him and allows Thor to take control, following his lead as Thor tastes him for the first time in this reborn form. He might lack the skill of his former self, but the taste of him is as sweet as ever, and Thor feels himself grow addicted, just as he did when Loki gifted him his first kiss so many centuries ago.

 

He reaches up to play with a dark lock of hair. “What do you want, Loki?”

 

Loki’s tongue pokes out to flick over his bottom lip and his eyes glint in the dim light as they travel down Thor’s body. “ _Everything_ ,” he sighs, and Thor feels him shift his weight to grind down against his hard length. “I want everything that you used to have with my old… with _me_ , in the past.”

 

Thor licks his lips and tightens his hold on Loki’s hips as he finally gives himself permission to show the true depth of his feelings. “Then you shall have _everything_.”

 

Loki melts into Thor’s embrace and allows their positions to be reversed as Thor flips them over, settling his brother against the mountain of pillows. He pulls the blanket aside and there’s just enough light in the room to reveal how Loki’s arousal already tents the front of his smallclothes.

 

He spreads his legs for Thor and sinks his pearl-white teeth into his bottom lip. “Brother,” Loki purrs, stretching his arms above his head like a lazing feline. “I want you to touch me, like you used to.”

 

“Here?” Thor smirks, splaying his fingers over Loki’s lower belly. He feels the muscles under his palm jump as he inches his hand lower still, and Loki’s eyes flutter when Thor’s thumb grazes over the wet little spot on the cloth.

 

“Yes, there,” Loki nods, already breathless.

                                                                                                                     

Thor is more than happy to comply, but he feels a small tremble in his hand as he reaches down to undo the laces at Loki’s waist. Not from nerves, but from the overwhelming realization that his brother is not only by his side, but _in his bed_ and everything in Thor’s world feels right again.

 

Loki, even with his memories and knowledge of their past, is inexperienced and Thor takes his time removing his smallclothes, smiling at the way his brother squirms and huffs impatiently.

 

“Thor, come on, touch me already.”

                                           

“I don’t recall you ever being quite this impatient,” Thor snorts.

 

 “Yeah? Maybe you’re just too old to remember,” Loki grins, but his lips part in a surprised little mewl when Thor finally closes his hand around his prick, rosy at the tip and straining against Thor’s palm before he has even moved his hand.

 

“What I _do_ remember is that you were always greedy for my touch and very vocal about it too, at least behind closed doors,” Thor laughs.

 

He hasn’t bedded anyone since that dark day three years ago, and his own cock swells against his thigh as he listens to the airy little gasps that slip from his brother’s lips. “Thor… Thor, _please_.”

 

Loki is so responsive, every touch gifting him with a new sensation. It’s a heady thing to witness and Thor reaches down to palm himself, but Loki beats him to it. He watches Thor with an impish smile as he presses the sole of his foot against the length of Thor’s cock. It doesn’t compare to a proper stroke, but it takes the edge off, and Thor wraps his fingers around his brother’s slender ankle, his lungs emptying with a deep groan as he thrusts against Loki’s foot.

 

His palm has grown wet with slick by the time he finally strokes his hand down Loki’s cock and his mouth splits into a grin at the way his brother keens, his back arching from the mattress.

 

“I think you should be naked, too. Don’t you agree, brother?” Loki asks, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he thrusts into Thor’s fist. He pokes his toes against the laces of Thor’s smallclothes. “Come on, take these off.”

 

“I’ll have to withdraw my hand to do that,” Thor warns, arching his brow, and sure enough, Loki’s mouth pulls into a pout the moment he opens his fist.

 

He does a quick job of undressing and settles on his knees between Loki’s spread thighs, allowing his brother to look his fill.

 

“Oh. It’s... bigger than I remembered,” Loki says, struggling to conceal his surprise as he stares at Thor’s length. He reaches down and tests its weight against his palm but struggles to wrap his fingers around the shaft. “Was it really always this big?”

 

“I believe it was,” Thor laughs.

 

“Um, how are we gonna…?”

 

“I’d like to rut between your thighs, if you’ll allow it.” Thor runs his fingers up and down the length of Loki’s inner thigh. “You require oil and time, and most of all, patience, before I can take you down here.” He presses his fingers briefly against the soft, puckered skin of Loki’s entrance, smiling at the way his brother’s eyes flutter at the touch. “I fear patience is something I lack tonight.”

 

Loki blinks up at Thor, a little breathless. “Okay.”

 

He allows Thor to lift his legs and crosses them at the ankles as Thor places them over his left shoulder. There’s no oil in his bedroom, something he’ll have to rectify first thing in the morning, but their combined slick will see them through.

 

He gives Loki’s cock a series of fast strokes, pausing every once in a while to squeeze around the flushed tip, and his fingers grow wet with pre-spend as Loki pants beneath him, his hips rising from the mattress even after Thor has already pulled his hand away.

 

Thor strokes himself, just enough to slick his length and pump out a few drops of watery seed, which he rubs all over Loki’s inner thighs. They’re firm with lean muscle, but his brother is still soft with youth, and Thor’s breath hitches when he thrusts between Loki's thighs for the first time.

 

It’s not as intimate as being enveloped by the heat of his brother’s body, but rutting like this reminds Thor of the hurried, often desperate trysts of their youth when their need for each other made them foolhardy. There was always a special thrill in following Loki to a shadowy nook or down a seemingly empty corridor and knowing that his brother would be waiting for him with his laces undone, thighs spread in an invitation.

 

Loki wails and comes untouched, his pink little cock slapping against his thigh as it continues to leak. Thor slows his thrusts and makes a fist around his brother’s prick, arching his brow when he finds it as hard as before.

 

“It appears your aren’t quite sated.” Thor tightens his hold and gives Loki a tentative stroke. “Think you can spill again?”

 

“Ah!” Loki squirms against the pillows, but his hips begin to rise from the mattress a moment later as Thor begins to chase another orgasm from him.

 

He feels the tight cleft around his cock grow loose, and Loki spreads his thighs as Thor wrings another spurt of seed from his prick.

 

“Thor…” Loki makes a half-hearted effort to push Thor’s hand away, but his hips continue to push up, and he digs his heels into the mattress, every muscle in his body tensing up as he comes dry mere moments later, the corners of his eyes wet with tears.

 

“It’s been a while since either of us was able to do that,” Thor says, quite impressed by Loki’s youthful stamina.

 

Loki blinks up at him and lets out a broken whine when Thor bends down to kiss the head of his cock, almost angry red and no doubt sensitive. He gives it a few soothing licks, just enough to savor the taste of salt on his tongue, but he pulls away when he feels Loki’s fingers in his hair, begging for a reprieve.

 

He knows Loki is too spent to resume their previous position, and he begins to stroke himself as he keeps his eyes on his brother, sated and a little overwhelmed.

                                                                                                    

Loki watches him with hooded eyes, a languid smile splayed across his lips, the evidence of his pleasure cooling on his skin. It’s a look Thor remembers well, one that he used to chase like a man obsessed, for there was no greater boon than the sight of his brother with his walls and the many masks he wore in public completely dismantled.

 

Loki gasps when Thor dips a little lower and he spreads his legs, a familiar greed lighting up in his eyes as Thor presses the slick head of his cock against his hole. His cheeks grow wet and he allows himself to be teased, but Thor pulls back the moment he feels Loki shy away, the blunt pressure of his cock too much.

 

He continues to stroke himself over the milky skin of Loki’s belly and his muscles begin to tense with his approaching orgasm. Thor has half a mind to turn away, for Loki hasn’t always welcomed the mess he’s about to make, but the need to mark his brother drives past caution and the first splash of his seed lands on Loki’s spent cock.

 

His brother gasps at the sensation and Thor throws his head back when he feels curious fingers on his shaft, one dark nail tracing the thick vein up to the flared head. His nostrils flare as he watches Loki collect a pearly drop of seed on his finger, his smile self-satisfied as he licks it between his lips.

 

Thor shakes his head and leans down to kiss Loki’s grinning mouth. “I see you still know how to drive me quite mad, brother.”

 

“And you still get me all dirty like some beast marking its territory,” Loki says pointedly as he dips his fingers into the mess on his belly.

 

Thor takes the hint and climbs out of bed for a washing cloth and he cleans his brother with gentle touches while Loki searches for Thor’s phone from the folds of the rumpled sheets. They settle under the covers and Thor opens his arms in an invitation, smiling when Loki accepts it and burrows against his chest.

 

He holds Thor’s phone above their heads, and their smiles are mirrored on the small screen as Loki captures the moment in an intimate little portrait. Thor watches him fiddle with a few settings and he makes no objections when the picture finds its way to the background of the screen.

 

Loki tilts his face up and gives Thor a questioning look. “This ok with you?”

 

“It is,” Thor nods.

 

Loki arches his brow, clearly expecting a less favorable answer. “People might see…”

 

“I believe that is your intention, brother,” Thor chuckles, well aware of Loki’s possessive streak. “People will see and they will talk, and the mortals will judge, but I care not, for I’ve lost you too many times to hide how I’ve loved you and will continue to love you as long as there is life in me.”

 

Loki blinks at him and appears, for once, quite speechless. He shakes his head and laughs, a short huff of air against Thor’s clavicle. “You’re really intense, you know?”

 

“Good intense or bad intense?” Thor asks, but he can guess the answer when Loki cups his cheek and leans up to kiss him, a fond ‘you fool’ whispered between them.


End file.
